


My True Love Gave To Me

by lupwned



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, F/F, Fluff, Holidays, Post-Oakroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:29:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13104093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupwned/pseuds/lupwned
Summary: They'd met because of the holiday, and Carol remembers the day fondly. She recalls their exchange of gifts – the way Therese's face lit up when she'd opened hers. Carol had expected to be completely alone last Christmas, and Therese – and only Therese – had given her the ultimate gift of her love and companionship. Even in her lowest moments, when she thinks back to those whirlwind days, Carol can't help but be filled with Christmas cheer.As they lay in bed, with a certain sleepyhead curled up beside her, Carol decides that, in the days leading into Christmas, she will find a way to fill Therese with the same type of spirit.Post-Oakroom, Complete





	My True Love Gave To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or just happy end of December! My gift to you all :)

 

On December 19th, Carol learns that Therese hates Christmas. She doesn't just dislike it – no, she _hates_ it. When they listen the radio together that night over dinner, and the festive melodies take the place of the music they usually enjoy, Therese mumbles her frustration under her breath. Carol's certain Therese doesn't think she's heard it, but she does.

Carol's not sure why her confession bothers her so much. As the night continues, the girl's disdain for the holiday plagues her. While Therese reads on one side of the sofa, Carol smokes a cigarette and tries to decipher the reason behind the loathing. Perhaps it's her experience with retail that's soured Therese, dealing with the long days and the rude customers in the weeks before Christmas. Or it could be the strained relationship with her family and the thoughts that inevitably pop up during this time of year; it's a subject Carol is all too familiar with.

But this time of year is also one of joy, especially for their relationship. They'd met because of the holiday, and Carol remembers the day fondly. She recalls their exchange of gifts – the way Therese's face lit up when she'd opened hers. Carol had expected to be completely alone last Christmas, and Therese – and only Therese – had given her the ultimate gift of her love and companionship. Even in her lowest moments, when she thinks back to those whirlwind days, Carol can't help but be filled with Christmas cheer.

As they lay in bed, with a certain sleepyhead curled up beside her, Carol decides that, in the days leading into Christmas, she will find a way to fill Therese with the same type of spirit.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Shopping – particularly of the Christmas variety – gives her horrible anxiety. Last year, Carol had Therese's smiling face to calm her, but in order to keep the surprise, she's on her own for this particular excursion. December 20th is early enough that she hopes the swarm of people won't be _quite_ as awful as she's come to expect. The craft store is surprisingly pleasant, with a mild crowd that is easy to navigate through. Carol references a hand written list as she navigates down each aisle, tossing a variety of items in her basket. The employees are kind and help locate what she cannot. She leaves with an unexpected smile on her face.

The grocery store is slightly more of an ordeal. Surly housewives frantically bounce around grabbing various cans and boxes that will assist in their holiday cooking. Carol waits her turn with a plastered smile, kind and glowing on the outside while internally cursing both the patrons for their lack of manners and herself for coming in the first place. By the time she's finally able to purchase her groceries, Carol decides that she'll have to reschedule Macy's for another day; if the supermarket was _this_ bad, she can't imagine the hordes at the department store.

Carol starts simple. When they're finished with dinner, she grabs a book, her reading glasses, and a treat she'd acquired earlier in the day. She sinks into the corner of the sofa with her legs tucked beneath her. With the thick, dark frames resting on the bridge of her nose, Carol begins to read – or at least, she pretends to. She can feel Therese watching her from across the room. Sweet, predictable Therese, who has always been infatuated with how she looks in glasses.

Her lover's gaze fixed on her, Carol brings a candy cane up to her lips and sucks the edge slowly. Although she can see Therese staring out of the corner of her eye, Carol feigns innocence, putting on her best acting face as she fingers through the pages of the novel perched on the armrest of the sofa. It only takes a few minutes before Therese joins Carol's side.

“What are you doing?” Therese asks.

They lock eyes.

“Mmmm?” Carol removes the end of the candy cane from her mouth, pauses, then wraps her tongue around it once more. Witnessing Therese squirm beside her makes the chaos of the day worthwhile, and Carol plays her game for as long as she can until a hand snatches the candy cane from her. Before she has the chance to show some mock offense, Therese's lips are on hers, kissing her tenderly and tasting the sweet peppermint on her tongue.

Carol considers day one a success.

**-X-X-X-X-**

She realizes the longer she waits, the worse the crowds will be, but December 21st starts cold and snowy, and Carol is in no mood to venture out to the stores in such weather. On a typical Monday, she would venture into the office, but the upper class clients with dollars to spare are all too busy spoiling themselves and their children with extravagant gifts to even think about furniture, so she finds herself with an unexpected amount of free time right before Christmas.

The timing truly is too perfect.

Carol arranges the craft supplies she'd acquired the day before on the dining room table. She's a little rusty – no longer regularly involved with such materials in Rindy's absence – but eventually she falls back into an easy pattern, her long fingers twisting and twirling around a series of ribbon and fabric.

It's not long before Carol's mind wanders as she works.

After almost a year together, Therese still keeps her apartment in Manhattan – much to Carol's chagrin. For many reasons, she's not asked Therese outright to move in since their reunion. The offer is always implied, but they never speak directly of it. Carol tries to convince herself that the moment just hasn't been right, but the truth is they've each been quietly tiptoeing around it, hoping the other would mention the subject first. With the new year inching closer – as well as the end of Therese's lease, she's recently come to find out – Carol contemplates their next steps.

Therese arrives like a whirlwind around 6. She tosses her bag and coat onto the floor and storms into the kitchen, ranting about her terrible day and the unmanageable workload moving toward Christmas.

Immediately, Carol goes to her and kisses the top of her head.

“Sit. I'll make you something hot to drink,” Carol offers, leading Therese to a chair. When Therese is settled, she steps into the kitchen and listens over her shoulder as the younger woman continues.

“And then Charles called me Terry, and he _knows_ it bothers me. He's a condescending man, Carol. I don't know how much longer...” Therese unwinds as Carol stirs milk into the cocoa mix she'd acquired the day prior. When steam begins to rise from it, she grabs two mugs and pours the liquid evenly between the two. To top them off, she adds a hint of peppermint to each, then carefully carries them over to the kitchen table where Therese sits with her head in her hands.

“Drink, darling,” Carol insists.

Therese looks up and smiles weakly. “Thank you.” She squeezes Carol's forearm, then turns to her cup.

Carol watches with anticipation as Therese sips from the top, the heat swirling around her face and into the cool apartment air.

“Peppermint?” The smile on Therese's face grows wider.

“Yes,” Carol answers.

“I'm sensing a pattern here,” Therese teases.

“Do you like it?”

“It's delicious.”

Carol matches Therese's grin. “Good.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

Carol spends the majority of December 22nd convincing herself that she still has plenty of time to purchase Therese's Christmas present. Surely, if she waits _one_ more day, most will have already acquired their gifts and will be far away from any department store.

It snows lightly for most of the day. Carol watches from inside the apartment as it accumulates outside of Madison before the cleaning crews sweep it away. Although she wants the roads and sidewalks clear for Therese to return to her, Carol almost wishes they could leave it for just a little while so they could admire it together. By her second cup of morning coffee, she has an idea for today's Christmas treat with Therese.

“I was thinking,” Carol shares as Therese walks through the apartment door, “that we could go out to dinner tonight.”

“Sure,” Therese responds, re-tying the scarf she had begun to remove from around her neck.

Carol stops her silently, holding the edges of the scarf in her hands and taking it upon herself to secure it around Therese's neck. She purposefully brushes her fingers and nails gently across the cold skin there. Feeling safe in the privacy of the apartment, she places a slow kiss against Therese's bare skin before tying the fabric into a loose knot.

Once Carol is dressed in her own winter gear, they venture outside to find a cab. The snow falls more steadily than it had earlier in the day, but there's still a wide variety of cars to choose from. Therese slides into the back seat, oblivious to the situation as Carol whispers their location to their driver.

As they pass their intended dinner venue, Therese finally notices something is off. “I thought we were-”

Carol simply offers her a smile and a raise of her eyebrow.

“Carol Aird, you devil.”

There's no hiding it any longer when they turn down 5th at 51st and the tree – massive in size, at least 50 feet tall – comes into view. Carol holds her breath and waits for Therese's response. The expression on the girl's face is difficult to read at first, and even as they come to a stop next to the sidewalk, Carol still isn't sure. She pays the driver, then goes to Therese, who stands with her hands in her pocket and her head back to fully take in the view. “Do you like it?” Carol asks. Her breath puffs between them like an icy smoke.

Therese says nothing. Instead, she hooks her arm with Carol's and they walk together – innocent enough, two friends enjoying the view. When they've finally gotten as close as they are allowed, Therese lets out a slow, almost-overwhelmed sigh. Carol deciphers the smile on the other woman's face as a sign she is happy, and she wishes, wishes _desperately_ that Therese would say _something_.

Therese basks in the view, her eyes darting back and forth between the array of lights and colorful ornaments. Carol, on the other hand, stands beside Therese and admires something – or _someone_ – completely different, looking like a Christmas angel as snowflakes stick to the strands of hair that peek out from Therese's hat and on the edges of her dark eyelashes. In this moment, she sparkles brighter than any light Carol can imagine. Although she's hardly the photographer in their relationship, Carol wishes she could capture and frame this moment.

For their own safety, they typically refrain from affection in public. But in this moment, with the snow swirling around them and the cold giving her a brain freeze that paralyzes any of her inhibitions, Carol takes Therese's gloved hand in hers and squeezes.

**-X-X-X-X-**

December 23rd is Therese's last day of work before the holiday, and, coincidentally, the last day for Carol to make her dreaded trip to the department store. They get ready together early that morning, Therese wearing a dark button up and matching skirt while Carol chooses a red dress with skin-tone pantyhose, black heels and diamond earrings. A few minutes before 8am, she finds Therese at the vanity, applying a layer of dark red lipstick to offset her smoldering eye makeup. She looks stunning fresh-faced, but Carol can't help but feel attracted to this more mature looking version of her partner.

Carol runs her fingers through Therese's hair and smiles, their eyes meeting in the mirror. “I made you something. Thought you might want to wear it for your last day.” She tucks the right side of Therese's bangs – which have grown longer over their year together – toward the back of her head and pulls out a small, hand-made pin out of her dress pocket. She slides it into Therese's hair, tucked securely against her scalp.

“You made this?” Therese asks, reaching a hand back to brush her fingers over the red bow with green-ribbon accents. She seems in awe of it, the same way she appreciates the paintings they see when they attend a gallery together; Carol would recognize that look of adoration anywhere.

“Yes.” Carol pauses. “If it's too much for you, then please don't flatter me by wearing it. You can-”

Therese turns, then cups Carol's face. They share a brief kiss before Therese adds, “It's beautiful, Carol. Thank you.”

“Not too Christmas-y?” Carol jokes.

“Just the right amount,” Therese teases, wrinkling her nose.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Over the months, they've made it a habit to eat dinner together whenever possible. Their lives are busy, and it isn't always feasible, but they try as often as their evenings allow. When together, they switch the radio on but turn the volume down until it's mostly background noise to their conversation. Sometimes, they discuss their days; more often than not, they listen to the tunes and just enjoy each other's company.

On Christmas Eve, halfway through their dinner of homemade potato soup with cracked pepper and chives – not very festive, but it had been Therese's request and Carol had happily obliged - Carol recognizes the beginning of her favorite Christmas song playing over the radio. The volume is so low she's certain Therese doesn't even hear it. Carefully, she sets her spoon down onto her plate and stands.

Therese blinks at her mid-bite. “Are you ok?”

“Dance with me?”

“Wh-what?” Therese chuckles. “Dance? Now?”

Carol crosses her arms over her chest and mockingly purses her lips. “Yes, dance with me. Is that so awful?”

Apologizing, Therese takes Carol's hand, and they walk together closer to the radio. Carol expects Therese to complain about the theme of the music once she hears it, but she says nothing, pressing her body close. Carol – as expected with their height difference – takes the lead with a protective hand around Therese's waist. They sway slowly as Bing Crosby sings.

_I'll be home for Christmas_ __  
_You can count on me_ __  
_Please have snow and mistletoe_ _  
_ _And presents by the tree_

With Therese in her arms, Carol's heart feels full. As the song fades into another, they continue to move together, shuffling across the floor of the apartment. It seems so effortless, as though their bodies and souls were made for one another. Carol had never enjoyed dancing with Harge. He was much too forceful, led with a painful grip and moved as though he had two left feet. She feels so much more at ease here, guiding Therese back and forth with a laugh and a smile.

“When I was a child,” Carol begins, “my immediate family would always exchange gifts on Christmas Eve. We'd sit around the tree and each of us would take turns opening a present. It was our tradition, I suppose.” Carol swallows heavily and meets Therese's gaze. “And I was thinking that perhaps...perhaps you would like to carry on that tradition with me?”

“Of course,” Therese answers, standing still.

Carol contemplates what to say next. She wants to thank Therese for this week, for these lovely holiday exchanges that she's willingly joined despite her disdain for the holiday. More than that, she wants to thank her for this year together, for returning to her although she could have anyone else in the world. But the words fail her, so instead, she gently lets go of Therese and reaches under the tree for the long, thin, perfectly wrapped box that holds the girl's Christmas present.

With delicate precision, Therese unwraps the gift. She makes little mess of the paper, folding it beside her to carry to the waste bin. The black velvet box nearly gives it away without needing to take a peek inside. “Carol,” Therese says, her voice shaking. “You...please tell me this isn't...”

She urges Therese on with a smile.

Hands trembling, Therese opens the box to reveal a dazzling silver necklace with a string of diamonds that glisten when they catch the light. Without waiting for Therese to say anything, Carol carefully picks it up from the box and strings it along the girl's neck, clasping it securely in the back. She leads Therese to the bedroom vanity and allows her to admire herself in the mirror. “It looks stunning on you,” Carol compliments. “ _You_ are stunning.”

Staring at each other's reflection in the glass, Carol is reminded of their time together in Waterloo, where they had kissed for the first time. They've shared hundreds – if not thousands – of kisses since, and each one still makes her feel the same way, hot and dizzy and vulnerable all at once. She kisses Therese's temple, then cheek, until she settles on the corner of her mouth, peppering it with quick pecks until Therese turns to her as she did a year ago, parting her lips and urging her into something more, something deeper. Carol undresses her slowly, admiring each inch of skin that appears before her as layers of fabric fall to the floor. She likens it to her own type of gift – unwrapping each layer until the prize is revealed – and heavens, is Therese a _prize_.

When Therese reaches behind her shoulders to remove the necklace, Carol stops her. “Keep it on,” she urges.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Carol wakes early – long before Therese – on Christmas Day. When the sleep clears from her eyes and the blurriness fades, Carol admires the woman sleeping beside her, with her hair tangled and strewn across her face and her makeup smeared around the closed lids of her eyes. The bed sheet barely covers her waist, and in the silence, Carol gazes upon Therese's naked body, aching once more for every inch of her. The gifted diamonds rest securely against her sternum. Every so often, they catch a ray of light from the city outside the bedroom window, glistening in the same way Therese's eyes sparkle when they're alone, just the two of them.

Careful not to wake her, Carol takes one of Therese's small hands in hers and strokes the back of her palm. She can't help but look at Therese's ring finger and wonder, just briefly, what it would look like with a different piece of jewelry there. Of course, she'd never be able to wear it in public, but the thought of it – even in the privacy of their apartments – makes Carol's heart flutter. She logs the thought in the back of her mind, but subconsciously caresses the knuckle where an engagement, or perhaps even a wedding ring, would sit.

“I didn't get to share my gift to you,” Therese mentions groggily mid-stretch.

“Did I wake you?”

“I've felt your eyes on me for the last hour,” Therese confesses with a sleepy grin. She brushes the hair away from her face. “Your present is in my handbag. Would you get it for me?”

With a nod, Carol rises from the bed, grabs her robe and retrieves Therese's purse. She settles beside her as Therese fumbles through it.

After a minute of searching, Therese hands Carol a folded piece of paper. “Read it,” she encourages.

“Dear Mr. Thompson,” Carol begins, reading Therese's flowing handwriting that she has always found beautiful. “I am writing to regretfully inform you that as of February 1, 1954, I will not be renewing my lease and, as such, will be moving out as of the new year. An address to forward my security deposit to will be provided at a later date. Sincerely, Therese Belivet.”

Carol looks up from the letter, her hands visibly trembling. “Therese, I don't wish to assume, so put me out of my misery and-”

“If you'll have me, I'm yours,” Therese responds, her cheeks pink.

“My darling.” Carol swallows the sob that creeps up her throat and threatens to suffocate her. “In a thousand cities, in a thousand houses. Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started out as a "12 days of Christmas" fic, but the author is too verbose for her own good and knew it wouldn't get finished in time for the holiday if I did a full 12 days worth of time. I hope you enjoyed this piece of Christmas fluff and happiness. Thank you, all, for a wonderful year in this amazing fandom.
> 
> As always, comments make the author smile and inspire more.


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